Hell and Back
by Geek Scribe
Summary: "If you can't die for me I'll live for you." Amy was convinced he had never said that. He couldn't have; he was not real. But here he is, standing in front of her English class, the new kid in town. Is that real enough? AU
1. The Quake

From my the roof of my school - where I had spent every morning for four years - I had a perfect view of the surrounding mountains. Little houses were perched on them like birds on a wire: modest, chirping, all occupants on the brink of flight. Between them were the oranges and reds of a resonating autumn. People noticed the colors the way they noticed the crash of a fluttering leaf to the ground: with terror.

"It'll be cold soon," Mom had noted that morning as I clutched a half eaten bagel between my teeth and finished off a bit of Law homework at the kitchen table.

I had shrugged, as though indifferent. Honestly, this was just about as cold as it got; barely a fall chill touched this place. But it was still the most horrific event to occur, the mass anticipation of a winter that never arrived. It only sent an annual threat.

That was the kind of place this town was. People fell when the ground merely quivered and collectively decided it was a quake. Mom said it was all relative, that in peaceful places even the smallest things were startling. I didn't agree. I thought people liked it: the rush of a silent eruption. It had all the thrill with none of the risk. That's just the way they preferred to live.

"Make sure to wear a jacket, Amy," Mom added. I didn't look up but I knew she was giving me that look, the raggedy-hoodies-don't-work look.

I brushed it off and pulled the bagel from my mouth. "Sure thing, Mom. "

I took a couple more bites. I hadn't buttered the thing nearly enough. It went down dry and was, frankly, kind of gross. My own fault I guess.

"Did you take your meds?"

I sighed, slapping the binder in front of me closed and squeezing my eyes tight. That question always bugged me. I think it had something to do with the term meds. Meds were for crazy people, the sickly, the fragile. I preferred to think I was none of those things. "Yeah. I made sure to."

"Good girl."

Good dog.

I had to stop thinking stuff like that.

I had packed up my stuff and was on my way to school, finding myself on the roof, as usual.

Now I was here. Standing by a fence surrounding the otherwise open roof top. Unsafe? Yes. Questionable? Probably. Did me or Rouge the Bat really care as we stood in silence on the only refuge we had? No.

I raised my hand up to clutch the chain fence. It was a little cool on my skin but nowhere near frosty like some might claim. From above I could see the average passersby like an ant beneath my feet. It was little things like this that made me feel okay. I was the boot; they were the bug. False power was power, no matter how you put it.

"So, yeah, wanna come?"

"Huh?" I blinked, turning back to Rouge incomprehensibly.

"You weren't listening, were you?" Rouge sighed dejectedly. She leaned back against the fence, slipping her cigarette back between her lips. I watched patiently as she inhaled the nicotine tinted smoke before taking it lazily between her fingers and letting the smoke rise with style. "Long story short, Knuckles and I are going to a party and we want you there."

"When?"

"Tonight."

"I don't know," I huffed, frowning down at me feet. "I'm not good with people."

"You'll never get good of you don't practice," she said, eyes half lidded, looking up at me through her lashes. She tended to do that when she wanted something.

"Let me rephrase," I laughed dryly, ready to be painfully blunt. "No body likes me."

"Wow," she smiled slyly. "Thanks for calling me no body."

I shoved her shoulder, rolling my eyes at the cliche snip. "I'm serious, Rouge. No body wants to go to a party where the crazy girl might be."

Her green eyes glistened at the comment as though it was some sort of challenge. Her fingers combed nimbly through her ivory locks of hair and her lips curved up in that contradicting smile. "Everyone wants to party with crazy girls."

"Even worse."

The bat spread her glossed lips as though ready to protest when the bell rang faint from the closed door to the stairwell. It was time to go. English was first; a tolerable enough class. Maybe I could actually try to concentrate this time. Usually I was too distracted by the view...and everything else.

I swung my bag, heavy as a locker, over my shoulder and tread over to the mint painted door like it was the gates of Hell. It groaned and creaked as I turned the knob and pulled. Looking back Rouge still stood there, solitary against the fence.

"You coming?"

"Nah," she waved the question away. "Knux is coming to have a smoke with me."

"You know you two are essentially shitting in your lungs, right?"

There came that smile again: sly, sweet, just a bit sad. "You don't let me forget, bitch."

"You love me."

"Yeah, whatever."

I descended down into the main hall of the top floor. Take one look around this place and you could tell it was a small town. Everyone stopped to say hi to everybody else - I was the only exception there - and girls all dressed like 50's house wives stepping out of some sexist black and white commercial. Rouge and I, the girls in the ripped up jeans, were not exactly welcome in this kind of environment. Sure, there were a handful of others but even they wouldn't touch us; by us I mean me. Rouge is perfectly fine with them. I'm not.

Walking down these halls, if you took away the preppy kids and lockers, it kind of looked like a closed mental asylum. Fluorescent lights, tinged yellow, hung from the ceiling. The walls were painted with hospital blues and greens. Plus, every bit of paint in the building showed the signs of being ready to chip. Maybe it was just me though. Not many others knew what the inside of a mental hospital looked like. It was eerily comforting like someone was trying to hide something.

Make a left further down that same hall and you come to my English class. It was the nicest room in the building. Don't get me wrong, the paint job was equally terrible, but the window made up for it. There was a whole wall of glass at the far right of the class, away from the door. I could lose myself looking out that window just like I lost myself peering through the wire fence up top. Something about views from heights got me going. My mind went on a trip that very little could distract it from.

I sat, first in the row by the window, and dropped my bag by the desk, pulling my books out as was necessary. Looking up through the glass I could see the sky, filled with a thick layer of rain clouds. That was pretty typical for this time of year. I liked to divide the seasons here into two as opposed to four: rainy season and sunny season. It was technically correct considering that this place was classified as a rain forest. But, like I said, the town needed its winter to worry over.

Waiting a few seconds and the teacher trotted her way into the class, just in time for the second bell. She was one of those young, new age, teach with positivity types. I didn't mind it much. It kept me out of crap since she wasn't 'a judger' as she called them. She was kind of a violation of expectations though. I don't know why but something just feels wrong about being tempted to ask your grade twelve English teacher where she got her shoes. I wouldn't be surprised if she answered with Forever 21.

"Morning class!" She twittered as she approached her desk, placing her attendance board down there. "Happy it's Monday?"

She really should have seen the collective groan that followed coming.

"Alright, alright guys. I get it. School sucks," she laughed as though sharing some kind of inside joke with us. I smiled in spite of myself. Damn her joy was infectious. "But this Monday isn't too bad. We have a special surprise."

If this was anything like that spontaneous poetry composition plus reading session she put us through last time I was out. I'm not even kidding. I'd run out that door, up the stairs and over to Rouge and her second hand smoke rather than have to present my literature expressing my innermost thoughts to the class. The thought itself made me queazy.

"Say hello to our new student!"

That got everyone's attention. Someone new in a sea of normality would be even better than obsessing over falsified cold fronts. I perked up with the rest of the class, eyes darting from the door to my hands on the desk, not wanting to seem to interested.

The door knob twisted from the other end. My eyes glazed over as the door opened and a figure stepped in.

No, it couldn't be. His face hit me like a ton of bricks. This was impossible. I was just seeing things; similarities where there were none. He was not here. _He_ was not real! What was it my councillor said? Make the voices say nice things. Make the faces less petrifying. Remember: they are not there!

"Sonic? Care to introduce yourself to the class?"

Sonic?

My Sonic?

...My Sonic.

Everything went black and I heard a scream. Blood curdled in its tone and I was vaguely aware of the fact that it was me. This was my scream.

* * *

><p><em>"Shit, Ames," Sonic cursed, looking down at my open knee. I whimpered as his hand lightly grazed the cut spot. Blood trickled down my pinkish, burning skin as I cried. I felt his arms wrap around me, picking me up and pulling me onto his knee. His embrace was warm, comforting. That still didn't stop me from crying. "How many times is this gonna happen, kiddo? I swear, you're the clumsiest kid I know."<em>

_"I know," I wailed, burying my face in his chest. His white T-shirt was clutched up to my damp muzzle as I sniffled pathetically to him. "I didn't do it this time, though. Kathy pushed me! Kathy did it!"_

_He sighed, readjusting me to look at him. His face was darker now, pained, worried. "Did she now?"_

_"Yeah!" _

_"And did you push her back?"_

_"Of course not."_

_"Why?"_

_"'Cause that's mean! I'm not a meanie like her."_

_I felt his chest rumble as he released a low chuckle. He shook his head, blue quills shifting behind him in the breeze. His jade eyes danced with amusement when he looked down at me again. His smile was brilliant in the light. I couldn't help but stop my whimpering just for a second._

_"How old are you Amy?" He asked. _

_I narrowed my eyes at him and answered, crossing my arms proudly. "I'm six."_

_"Really?"_

_"Yeah!"_

_"You're a big girl, then!" He gasped excitedly. _

_I giggled in agreement as he began to bounce me up and down on his knee. It reminded me of a bumpy pony ride I had taken just a few days earlier at the fair._

_"Well," he added, stilling me and wearing a less exaggerated joy on his face, "when I was your age I would have pushed right back."_

_I frowned, looking down at my shiny, black Sunday shoes. "Mommy says to turn the other cheek."_

_"Sonic says to smack the other's cheek," he defied me. "I promise she won't push you again after that."_

_I looked back up at him. He had the kind of eyes I thought I could trust. I would have jumped off a bridge if he had told me it was safe. Maybe it was because he was older, wiser, or because he was charismatic. Maybe it was the other thing though. _

_But let me tell you this: Kathy Jones never did push me again. Nope. Next time she got her big brother to do it for her._

* * *

><p>"It looks like we'll have to adjust her medication," Dr. Roberts said, scribbling something down on her notepad of judgements.<p>

"Maybe it was a one time thing," Mom defended me, shaking hand rubbing my back as soothingly as it could. "She hasn't had an incident in years."

"Yes," she agreed with a stark nod. "But we don't want to break that streak now, do we? Besides, you know how bad it could get."

* * *

><p><em>"Sonic," I cried, wiping blood from my swollen lip. The place where the rocks made impact still burned with pressure. "Please, help me. I can't take it anymore."<em>

_He kneeled down before me, eyes watery with grief. "I'm sorry, Amy. You know I can't leave the forest."_

_"Then don't. Just let me stay! I wanna stay with you!"_

_"You don't mean that."_

_"I do!" _

_"Amy-"_

_"Sonic! Please! I wanna stay with you!" I screamed, desperation flaring through ever fibre of my being. "Forever!"_

* * *

><p>"It's fascinating really," Roberts muttered below her breath. "Amy seems to be projecting her hallucinations onto this new student. Have they met before?"<p>

"Not that I know of."

"We have," I admitted, breathless.

"Really? When?"

* * *

><p><em>It happened so fast that I could barely comprehend it. There I was, drowning in a pile of leafs, raked together to be jumped in. But this time it wasn't a cushion. It wasn't remotely fun.<em>_  
><em>

* * *

><p>"In the forest," I whispered, feeling the scars, even now, singeing like fresh burns.<p>

"Amy," mother sighed. I could hear tears break in her voice.

"You know there was no one in that forest, don't you?" Roberts spoke calmly. "_You_ lit the fire, not anybody else."

* * *

><p><em>I <em>_was burning alive. This was hellfire! I was dying._

* * *

><p>"The firemen dragged you out half dead."<p>

* * *

><p><em>Through the flames I could feel his arms cut through, not warm but cool with relief. Time stopped and all I could see was him pulling me out of the leaf pile, into a clearing surrounded by the burning forest.<em>

* * *

><p>"There were no other bodies, Amy."<p>

* * *

><p><em>"Sonic!" I screamed. <em>

_He flinched at the shrill sound but held me just as tight. He would not listen to me begging for death._

* * *

><p>"<em>He<em> didn't exist, Amy."

* * *

><p><em>"Don't say forever, Amy."<em>

* * *

><p>"<em>You <em>did all those things."

* * *

><p><em>"Not until you mean it."<em>

* * *

><p>"<em>He<em> is not real."

* * *

><p><em>"I can't let you die for a forever. But...if you can't die for me...I'll live for you."<em>

* * *

><p><strong><em>I've been planning this story for weeks now and am so excited to finally be putting it up. Please, review with your feedback and let me know what you think of the first chapter. I really hope you enjoyed the read so far. Thanks! :)<em>**


	2. The Chill

I swear the little pink pill in my palm was mocking me.

Insane, it taunted. Destructive, crazy, an absolute lunatic.

I sighed squeezing my eyes shut and trying to block it out. I was not crazy; I was overworked. With my grad year going on in the midst of rising social pressure and the problems of daily life I had just snapped, like any normal person would. My mental break down just happened to look slightly different from everybody else's; that's all.

Slightly? The pill jeered at me. You call seeing the new kid in school as a crazy illusion that tried to kill you slight?

You know what? Shut up.

I pressed the palm to my open mouth before pouring water in, letting the little demon slide down my throat. That should keep him quiet. Better yet, it should keep me under control. This was the first few days of a new, stronger pill Roberts had prescribed for me. Say goodbye to my hallucinations of Sonic the Hegdehog and hello to whoever this new kid was. My life would officially go back to normal starting today.

"Did you take it?" Mom asked.

I looked over at her, standing by the door to the kitchen smiling like a battered servant. I felt bad. I had been quite the handful these past few days while my body was adjusting to this medication, plus I was hysterical; that never helped either.

In my right mind I know real from fake, dream from awake, but I had not been in my right mind. I spent all day every day flailing my arms, crying, screaming about the fire I was in when I was six.

The fire I caused, I have to remind myself. I had lit it, not Sonic. Sonic wasn't real. I was just imagining him.

I closed my eyes and even then I could see him vividly behind my lids: a tall eighteen-year-old hedgehog boy who used to throw me into leaf piles when I was little. His eyes were little pools of warm flowing jade, his smile white and dazzling in all its sincerity, his blue quills windswept and always charmingly askew. As a little girl I thought he was perfect. I thought he was my hero. I thought he was real.

"Yeah, I took it," I answered softly, apologetically.

I knew Mom wasn't afraid of me. That's not why she was shaking or why her pink quills were flying everywhere or why her eyes were wide with anticipation of all the terror to come. She was afraid for me, that I might finally lose it beyond the point of being able to recover. It was every mother's mortal fear.

"You know, you could stay home an extra day," she suggested, leaning against the doorframe and trying to smile inticingly. "Just to make sure you're alright. We could watch movies, make popcorn and-"

"I'm alright, Mom," I assured her, walking up to her and planting the biggest, steadiest kiss on her cheek that I could muster. "Besides, if I don't go now I may never be able to convince myself to go again."

I tried to make it a joke but from the tight line my mother pressed her lips into I could tell that she took that to heart. "You better get going then. The bus should be here any minute."

I nodded, trying to be bright through the frown that was spreading on my face. Could I really go to school today? Would this stronger dose of Lithium really help? I suppose there was only one way to find out for sure.

* * *

><p>"Amy!" As soon as I stepped through the threshold onto the roof Rouge was on me, arms locked tight around my shoulders, hands stroking my quills back. She may seem cool and collected but when shit went down it really got to her. I could only imagine how worried she had been these past couple days. "No texts or messages, out for three days, I even heard you attacked someone!"<p>

So that's what people were saying. I wouldn't call collapsing on the floor in a blubbering mess an attack but some people may feel threatened by the sheer craziness of it. I wonder what details they had gone and made up. If I had been violent I at least hoped the lie was badass.

"I just freaked out in class," I said, holding my friend an arm's length away from me. "No big deal. Just thought I saw someone I knew."

Rouge bit down on her ruby red lips and gave a single stark nod. I didn't need to say anything more; she knew what I was talking about.

"So, did you really try to scratch his eye out?" My eyes darted over to the fence. Leaning on it was Knuckles: tall, buff, amethyst eyed and red furred.

So they were saying badass things about me. Well, here's something to add to my ever growing list of amazing things I've never actually done. Other highlights include flinging my bra at a sixty-year-old male teacher and trying to cast an evil spell on the Queen of Juniour Prom before the vote.

"Oh, you bet," I laughed, grinning from ear-to-ear. "I had to call on all my deep Satanic powers for that one."

"Did it work?" He smirked.

"Hmm...I don't know," I muttered sarcastically to myself, stepping towards him, hands up in a claw pose. "Wanna try again and see?"

He laughed, smacking my hands away as I hissed and scratched at the air in front of him.

"Okay, guys, okay," Rouge snickered, coming in between urge two of us. "Stop before you actually end up clawing each other's eyes out."

Knuckles laughed, raising his hands up in mock defeat as I took a few steps back. Knuckles and I had always been the play fighting type, ever since we met in middle school. That, of course, left Rouge, who I had known even longer, to patch everything up when we accidentally ended up hurting each other. Let's just say that eyes had been blackened in the past and leave it at that.

Just like always the bell muttered at the perfect time to cut in on our fun. I groaned. English was first thing, as always. That meant I'd have to see him. My God, it was an awful concept. I felt myself chill over suddenly. No, Amy, don't freak out. It's not actually him. Besides, the medication has kicked in. You won't see this guy as him; he'll just be the new kid in English class, as he should be.

"You good?" Rouge asked. I felt her hand sit firm on my shoulder, steadying me. I hadn't realized I had begun to sway.

Oh, Lord, I was feeling sick.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I answered, putting on my best brave face. The two of them both frowned.

"Bull shit, Amy. You look green." Knuckles said. Well, there went my attempt at selling sanity.

"You can skip with me and Knuckles," Rouge breathed lightly, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sure your Mom would get it."

"And be flunkies like you?" I joked half-heartedly, shimmying out of my friend's grip and backing up towards the door. "Nah, I think I'll take my chances down there. Besides, I need to grow a pair."

They said nothing. They just watched me as I waved a meek goodbye and went on my way. Back down the stairs to Hell I went. Hopefully this times I wouldn't wind up in the hospital for it.

* * *

><p>I was officially screwed.<p>

Stepping into the room the first thing to catch my eye was a blue boy sitting in the seat next to mine, the one that was usually abandoned. He had his eyes down to his notes, scribbling something there, and was humming, blissfully unaware that I saw him as the embodiment of my insanity: an embodiment that had tried to kill me.

I sucked a deep breath in. I could do this. I was armed with chemically induced control and breathing techniques; what could possibly go wrong? I took my first step through the door frame and felt like a ton of bricks hit me in the chest. The wind knocked out of me. I was breathing hard. It was like I had just finished a marathon.

No, suck it up buttercup! You march over there, sit in your seat and get things done. Do not let the delusions conquer you.

I held my breath, puffed out my chest, stuck my nose in the air and took hard, determined strides forward. As I came to the seat I adjusted my bag and swung it around my shoulder, attempting to thud it onto the ground. Unfortunately that's not where the bag made a thud.

"Shit!"

I dropped the pack beside me in shock and gasped, looking over at the boy. He rubbed the back of his head, hissing air through his teeth and squinting. I could see every eye in the class burning on me. Great, now I tried to claw his eyes out and I beat him with a fully loaded backpack.

"Oh my goodness!" The teacher squealed. She was staring wide eyed at the boy with his head hanging down. Considering my initial reaction to him I don't think it would be too far fetched to say she got suspicious quick. "Amy! Did you hit him?!"

"No! No! I would never," I stuttered shakily. "My bag just slipped and it sorta-"

"My head was in the way." His voice slipped like silk onto my defence: smooth, handsome and covering for all possible flaws.

I shivered. That voice, it was his. It was the deep, silky tone that used to coo over me comfortingly when I fell, chide me when I threw a tantrum. It was the voice that had the power to convince me of anything. How could this be happening? Did whatever shit I had in my mind hang that much control over me? It couldn't. It had to be something else. Think, Amy! Think!

"Oh, well then, that's alright. Accidents happen." The teacher said, smiling nervously at the two of us.

He glanced up at me, smirk on his playfully worn expression, and winked.

Usually this is where the girl blushes, heat rushing to her muzzle, fear evaporating and being replaced by a pure hormonal rush. That was not my reaction at all.

I felt the blood drain from my face, my fingertips, every outer part of my body and freeze over as it gathered in my chest. My knees knocked together weakly giving me no option but to sit in my seat and pretend I wasn't scared shitless. I felt too weak, too frozen, too bolted to this place to run. I toyed with my fingers, looking down at my desk and refusing to meet his gaze.

I could still feel his eyes, analytically amused, on me as the teacher began her lesson. It was an unnerving sensation. Something about it felt like it had happened before. It had happened before. At the same time I knew it hadn't. It was all too confusing to wrap my head around.

The teacher droned on while I tried to regulate everything: my erratic heart, my aching lungs, the burn of contradicting chemical reactions within my brain.

This was Sonic, the teenaged boy who took care of me when I was bullied as a kid. This was Sonic, the monster who had ushered me towards that burning leaf pile in the woods. Sonic, the one who saved me. Sonic, the one who was never real. This was not Sonic.

I felt sick from the churning sea of thoughts, like I needed to get my land legs again or I'd have to swab the deck.

I put my face in my hands, trying to concentrate on the hum of the classroom. There were girls talking in the back, the teacher trying to lecture us on iambic pentameter and, of course, the boy beside me, silent, was still glancing over on occasion.

The teacher finished whatever she was saying, leaving me once again in the dark. Was I ever going to learn anything at this rate? Did it matter? Somehow the prospect of me getting a good grade in this class had gone from slim to none with his presence. That's alright though. My priority was more not dying of a heart attack right now.

"Alright, class," the teacher chirped in her usual chipper way. Somehow her sweetness had gone from endearing to suffocating in a matter of seconds. Was everyone else really carrying on as normal? I really was crazy. Shit, I was past that. I was insane! "You have extra time before the bell rings so why don't you start on your projects?"

Project? What project? Did she assign it just now and I wasn't listening or had my mental sick days left me behind in school?

I slapped one hand down on my desk in frustration while the other pinched the bridge of my nose. I let out a groan. This had to be the worst class period of my life. I was caught between not understanding a subject and fending off a swelling anxiety attack. Fuck you, paranoid schizophrenia! I don't need your bullshit right now.

I jumped, a high pitched wheeze of air entering my lungs as something thin rubbed against my hand. I stared over at where it had come from. The boy, eyes planted on me firmly, glanced back down at the paper and pushed it farther towards me on my desk.

"I grabbed an extra outline for you, just in case."

I gulped. His jade eyes swam with some kind of hope. What did he want? The easiest answer would be a response but I suspected something more. My heart pounded, feeling the flickering flames on my skin as dry leaves surrounded me. Was that still what he wanted?

No, he wasn't real. This is not him. This boy is a new kid who just so happens to be named Sonic and probably just wants to make a friend; that's all. Look, he even went to the effort of getting you an outline for the project. Isn't that sweet? Thank him.

"Thank you."

Nailed it!

"No problem," he replied with a small smile. His eyes glinted as I fastened the sheets into the clips of my binder. "I'm Sonic. You are?"

"Amy Rose," my voice almost cracked as I uttered the answer.

Something felt wrong about this. Sure, he had asked for my name but from the way he looked at me daringly, knowingly, it was almost as though he didn't need to.

Well, duh! My more logical side tried to wriggle through. You made a scene on his first day of school. Someone was bound to tell him who you were, especially with how gossipy people are. He's just being polite and asking.

"Pretty," he said, softly. I winced at the sound of his chair coming just a little closer to mine. It wasn't enough to make a difference space wise but the gesture disturbed me. "It suits you."

"Um... thanks."

I looked back down at the sheet of paper. The letters blurred like hieroglyphs in my eyes. The more I tried to think of them the farther my mind wandered to this strange boy, the Sonic who is not Sonic. Trying to process anything hurt at that point. Maybe I should at least attempt to settle down.

"Listen," he went on. His was a tone of liquid honey trying to smooth over every broken piece he might see within me. I shuddered involuntarily at his voice again. He was so much like him. "I don't know what I did to offend you but obviously there must have been something. Can we just start over? I don't want to be on anyone's bad side."

He held out his hand, steady, prepared, a friendly smile echoed by his handsome face. "Round two: I'm Sonic, nice to meet you."

I stared down at the hand. There came that chill again. I was petrified. I knew I shouldn't be; this guy had proven to be nothing but your typical new student trying to make friends and not step on toes. Somehow that just didn't sit right with me. I couldn't convince myself of reality.

_Buzz, buzz, buzz._

I jumped up on instinct, dragging my bag along, as soon as the school's ugly bell went off. I couldn't sit there another second. I couldn't handle this kind of stress. What was wrong with me? How did I make him go away?

I cut through the crowds, trying to pace my thoughts. I was trying to take in too much at once. I was thinking of all this as though this new boy was him. He wasn't though. I need to get that through my thick skull.

He's not. He's not. He's not.

I shuffled towards the stairs, head swimming, nerves drowning and went up.

This was ridiculous. Amy, don't do this to yourself. Stop seeing things! Stop seeing him, hearing him, thinking of him! He is nothing.

I didn't realize I was crying until the hot tears burnt trails down my muzzle. Disgust sloshed in my gut: disgust for my mind, my reaction and especially for me. Self loathing was the only thing that kept my head on straight; if I hated my insane self then I knew sanity was not lost.

I hit the door onto the roof with my shoulder, bursting in like stuffing from a seam. I tumbled forward, not really sure where I was going and looked up. No one was here; Knuckles and Rouge must have decided to actually go to class. Didn't they have Art or something now? It didn't matter.

I was alone.

I clutched the wire fence and felt that familiar burn of cold...except stronger. Newly formed frost stung and melted beneath my fingers. It hadn't been cold enough for frost in a long time. Breathing out I saw the carbon air rise from my lips. Over the valley, the mountains, the houses that fluttered dangerously in the wind, there was a veil, translucent and white, coated over the tops of every home, leaf and blade of grass.

The town had gone cold.

Looking up into the the ever overcast sky I saw what I never would have expected: snow.

* * *

><p><strong>Alright, here's the second chapter of Hell and Back. I hope you guys enjoy it. Please follow, fav or review the story if you like; don't be a stranger. :)<strong>

**Thank you for reading!**


	3. The Hearth

I could feel the door slam through my bones like the vibrato of a pitch fork. I shuddered involuntarily at the sensation and looked over my shoulder at the door to the roof. With all its metal, all its carefully crafter layers, I could still see through it like glass, sense the white noise in motion on the other side. The insulation of these brick walls did nothing to help; the chill still came through. It seemed almost impossible to stop it. This wasn't just any kind of snow; it was a frozen, hopeless baptism forced on me from above. The idea made me sick to my stomach.

No, Amy, stop being so pessimistic. What did Mom say about snow when you were little, that first time she took you hiking through the forest and you rolled down the cushioned white hill? Oh, yes, that's right: snow is just the angels shedding their feathers in preparation for the spring. No reason to fear the fall of a feather, the touch of a red leaf, a quiver, a quake.

I wanted so badly to believe that; I truly did. My mother was so optimistic, so bright. Even as a single mother she saw the good in everything to the point of being charmingly cliche. It was a talent she had not passed on to me. I always wondered if I was more like my dad - whoever he was - maybe a little harsher, darker, far more dreary. I wondered if he thought what I thought when Mom spoke about snow and angel feathers: this cold, lifeless byproduct that the angels carelessly dumped on us might as well be shit for all the trouble it caused. If he did think that I didn't doubt it's why they split apart. If so I didn't see why she put up with me...maybe I was a little better. That was a small comfort.

I looked back down the stairs where fluorescent lighting made a dim halo around the door. From my view at the top step I could see nothing in the hall but the glow of that light, the promise of order, an order that would no doubt carry me back to that boy at some point. Whether I caught a glimpse of him in the hall or, God forbid, we had another class together we were going to cross paths again; I could feel it. Was order really worth paying madness, a normal world worth being the odd one out? I was too tired to be sure of that, or anything. Maybe Mom was right: I should have stayed home.

I took out my phone and sighed, stepping down the stairwell and into the hall. I didn't want to have to do this. Knuckles would be bound to ask questions and when he did I, as the person who asked for a favour, would be obliged to answer. I didn't want to have to explain everything to him. Talking about things only put more attention on the problem; it didn't solve anything. What I needed right now was a distraction, not emphasis, but it couldn't be helped. I needed a ride; Knuckles had a car.

I just hoped I wasn't going to bug him by asking for this favor.

_Hey Knux. U mind giving me a ride home?_

I kept walking, phone still in hand, and counted silently in my head. He was going to start the questioning in 3...2...1.

Buzz, buzz.

_Why, what's wrong? U OK?_

I knew it.

_I'm OK. Just tired._

This is where Rouge would usually drop it. She, being a girl and therefore fluent in female, always got the message. She wasn't the one who could drive me though; Knuckles was. It wasn't about him, it really wasn't. It's just that he didn't know that I'm okay didn't mean that I was in denial: it meant 'drop the subject please.'

Of course, he decided not to drop it.

_U can tell me. I can help._

Oh that big, loveable softie. How is it he made me feel guilty about not telling him, like I had committed some kind of terrible betrayal?

_U can help me by driving me. :)_

_That's not what I meant but fine. I'll drive u._

_Thanks! ^_^_

_Whatever. I'm heading out to the senior parking lot._

I frowned. I couldn't help but feel like I had disappointed him. He was just trying to help. I shouldn't push him away for kindness, for caring too much. That would be the worst reason in the world to hurt a friend.

I walked down the hall, further and further into the whirlwind of devoted students heading to class as though they were being called to prayer. I kept my eyes to the floor, distinctly aware that everyone was stealing curious, disgusted glances at me and actively not wanting to meet their eyes. I could only imagine how horrified their eyes would seem.

Another minute and I was out the back door of the school. The cold wasn't extreme but it felt a lot worse without the proper jacket on. I guess Mom was right about raggedy sweaters too. I looked up above me, noticing that the snow had gotten thicker and more frigid. The murky heavens gave nothing away. Would this stop, go on, worsen? There was no telling. I could only assume the worst.

"Amy!" Knuckles called from his silver car. I don't know anything else about the thing; it was just silver and faded, used I think. I wasn't really much of a car person. I didn't even know what the logo was on his front bumper.

I gave him a weak smile and approached, hopping into the shotgun seat and watching as he climbed in himself: expression unreadable, muscles tense.

"Thanks, Knux," I offered my gratitude up with an apologetic tone. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem," he huffed, turning the key and starting the car. He began to pull out of his parking space and the lot, eyes focused, demeanour a bit more distracted than upset and I was thankful that the task at hand had taken his attention away, even for a little while. Then that relief ended. "Amy, what's going on? Are people bugging you again?"

"No, it's nothing like that."

"Are you sure? 'Cause I could easily just-"

"I don't need a bodyguard," I grumbled looking over at him. A frown played mockingly on his lips for me to see. That was harsher than I intended. "Knuckles, no ones bugging me. I promise."

He nodded, taking a second to pause before asking his next question. "If it's not that then...are you...are you seeing things again?"

I know Knuckles noticed the hitch in my breath that followed. I know he was trying to be delicate too. The reality though, however sad it might have been, was that he was right.

I was seeing things that I couldn't control or explain. I knew _he_ wasn't there. I knew it. Yet, somehow, every part of me but my conscious mind had not gotten that memo. Even now I could feel him here as though he was sitting behind me in this car, breathing down my neck, whispering about forest fires and life in my ear.

I blinked back a panicked rush of tears and shook my head. "Just really vivid daydreams."

The lie was convincing enough because Knuckles faced me and gave a half-assed smile. "Okay then...so I shouldn't be worried?"

"Nah," I waved it aside. "It's weird but nothing I can't deal with."

He seemed to relax, sinking back into his seat. "Good. Rouge and I were starting to freak out a bit."

"Rouge freaking out?" I snickered at the thought.

"God, Ames, you have no idea," he groaned, rolling his eyes absently. "You should've seen her when you didn't show up the last couple days. She was practically tearing her hair out. Let me tell you, it is no fun having a jumpy, freaked out girlfriend."

"Really? I thought being the white-knight, shoulder-to-cry-on would be alright."

"It was," he chuckled, "'til she started crying buckets. Tears do not make a good cologne."

"So that's why you smell like the ocean."

"Shut up."

I couldn't help but laugh lightly, breathily. There was a small, bubbly joy swelling in my chest. It faded, popped quickly but it was the first time I had felt it in a while. I appreciated the borrowed smiles.

I turned my eyes back to the road as we turned into my suburb. Down the modest network of roads, past a park or two, a handful of houses and the forest trail that glared at me every time I saw it and we came to my house. It was a cozy bungalow with faded green paint and pretty potted flowers growing on our porch - the snow couldn't be good for them. Inside was the fireplace, which I couldn't wait to turn on. It was wood burning, big, brick, gorgeous, my favourite feature of the house

Knuckles pulled over to the side of the road and turned to me with a smile and an inviting arm out. I leaned into him, giving him a weak squeeze for a goodbye hug and climbed out quietly, waving.

"See ya," I squeaked uncertainly.

"Yeah," he confirmed, nodding sternly. "See ya _soon_."

I crossed my arms but didn't say anything. His message was clear. Rouge had probably decided that they'd be checking up on me soon and this was a warning.

As he started the car and drove away I crossed the street into my home. Inside it smelt like the freshly burned wood Mom had put on that morning, all spent out but still lingering in the air. The house was quiet but not in the horrific way the roof had been as I stood suspended above a chipping reality. Home was still, serene, as perfect as it could be.

It was almost noon. Mom wouldn't back until 3 o'clock, leaving me with some time on my hands. What to do, what to do.

My house had all you basic forms of entertainment: books, television, music, records because Mom's a purist, we even had a little Wii nestled away in the corner. Knuckles always laughed at the console calling it the shame of the game stations. Rouge and I both agreed he was just a gaming snob. Besides, Mario games are the freaking bomb!

Finally I decided it would probably be best for me to sit my butt down and read: a recreation to better my mind, which desperately needed betterment. That resolution, of course, only lasted about fifteen minutes so I moved on to games, then TV, then games, then back to reading. So goes the story of how I managed to waste three hours without ever finding satisfaction in any single thing.

Yeah, my attention span is kind of pathetic.

Anyways, the point is that by the time Mom came home I was nestled on the couch attempting to get through the Hunger Games, a book I had owned since its release and never once finished.

Mom smiled, impressed with the effort, as she always was when I decided to pick up anything with words in it, and gave me her usual, "hey, honey."

As things were she probably didn't see anything wrong with me. School ended around 2:45 so if the bus ride went smoothly I'd usually beat her home. I debated telling her how long I had actually been there. On one hand Mom would definitely understand and wouldn't get angry. On the other hand she would get worried, paranoid; I didn't want her bashing her head against a wall when she found that anything she could do just hurt, not helped.

Oh, don't judge me. I know my original plan had been to tell her but under the circumstances I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

Her heels clicked their way from the hardwood hall to the tile of the kitchen floor where Mom began to call in her always pleasant manner. "How was school?"

"Fine," I lied, trying to invest myself in Katniss' makeshift burial for Rue. Am I evil for not crying?

"Yeah? Anything interesting happen?"

"Nope," I lied, popping the P, trying to sound as unshaken I normally was.

"Well, that's too bad," my mom sighed pitifully like she always did. That's where the conversation ends most nights. I guess today was just not under the category of 'most nights.' "I thought that maybe you might have met someone new. You know the Prower's next door?"

I perked up, sitting erect in my seat but still not wanting to sound too invested. "Of course. We've lived next to them for seventeen years."

"Well, they took in a foster child and I thought you may have seen him," she said, something in the kitchen clanking against something else. She was probably starting dinner up. Now? At 3 o'clock? That meant we'd have a big meal. "I invited them over for supper."

Oh shit.

"Umm," I grappled within my own head for words. What was the question I was looking for? What did I need to ask? "What's the kid's name?"

"Sonic, I believe. He's your age."

It's like every fear, nightmare, terror suddenly became realized all at once. I put a hand to my chest feeling my pulse, my exhaling lungs, my cold fingers on the still warm place near my heart. None of these perfectly functioning things within me brought any comfort any more. Despite all of them I had become aware, with a violence, that there was something terribly wrong going inside me. There had to be. It couldn't be everybody else.

"When will they be here?" I asked, staring at the clock in anticipation of a time.

"Half an hour. Rosemary and I thought it might nice for you to have some time to sit down and talk."

I could feel something sharp go through me. After all I had done just so I wouldn't run mad today fate was going to throw me this? I was shocked. I wasn't sure how much more I could take.

"Why would you do that, Mom?"

I heard her laugh oddly as she popped out of the kitchen. A smile was stretched on her face encouragingly as she approached. "Hun, I know you're shy but there's no need to worry. Sonic's new and just wants to make friends in the neighbourhood. Nobody's talking to him at school; you know how that is."

"Mom," I said, standing, every muscle in my body shaking. I walked up to her. Her face was sympathetic, pitying but nowhere near comprehension. How could she understand though? Would you? "Cancel dinner. Tell them they can't come. Make up an excuse. Just please-!"

"I'm afraid that's out of the question," she said, pressing her lips together in a painfully domestic way. "They're coming to dinner, Amy, so be friendly."

I crossed my arms over my chest tightly, trying to squeeze myself back into my body before I lost all control. I looked away from my mom and down to the floor, hardwood beneath my bare feet.

"Amy," she whispered, pulling me into an embrace. I couldn't bring myself to hug back. I just stood there stunned. "I know this is hard for you but you need to put yourself out there. Just try to do this...for me."

I felt my heart beat against hers as she pressed me closer to her.

She had done and been through so much for my sake. All she wanted was this one thing from me: face my fear, try to make a new friend. How could she know that she was asking for so much more than that, so much more than I think I could give.

"Try," she repeated without knowing what it really meant to me in that moment.

"Alright," I murmured, resting my forehead on her shoulder and speaking into the space between us. "I'll try."

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys! I am back with another update for Hell and Back. This chapter is a big lead in for what's about to happen next and I can't wait to pick up where this left off.<strong>

**Anyways, I hope you guys are enjoying the story. Follow, fav and review if you want to see more and I'll get to working on the next chapter: the flame. So exciting!**

**Thanks for reading! :)**


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